


a bullet for the pair of them

by Skyuni123



Series: a trio of victors and lovers [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Biting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Multi, Post Regeneration, Regeneration, Sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-11-22 20:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Missy waves a hand. “Dearest, you might want to look down.”The Doctor does.“Oh, I’m ginger now!”Missy huffs, and rolls her eyes, obviously fed up. “Not the hair, Doctor.”





	1. wash of gold

**Author's Note:**

> the master is 'koschei' now bc i am sick of calling him 'the master'

He takes a bullet for the pair of them and dies in the snow, one cloudy Christmas Eve in old-town London. 

He’s not surprised that this regeneration ends this way. It’s fitting, after all.

“You utter fool.” Missy tsks, standing over him. In the background, if he squints, he can just see Koschei, halfway through a glass of mead. No change there then. Surely the shooter must be long gone now, but they could at least pretend to care.

Missy’s face is the last thing he sees before the gold takes him away.

 

 

 

“-you could pretend to be sympathetic.” Missy’s voice is the first thing that trickles in upon waking.

 

Eyes shut? Check. 

Limbs? Surely they’re still there. (Upon checking, yes they are. Two legs, two arms. Presumably human again then. Though there are other creatures that are bipedal… The matter needs more thought.)

Head? Yes. Still got it. (Also got a throbbing headache, but that’s really just the regeneration talking.)

 

“Baby, I’m not sympathetic. Never have been. That’s  _ your  _ little weakness, remember?” Koschei. Good to know he’s not run off. 

Can’t afford to run across half the galaxy to find him  _ again. _

 

“Only because I know what this is like.”

 

“You’re bowing to the  _ human  _ notions of the gender binary?” Koschei scoffs. “Really? After seventeen regenerations?” He moves, and it rustles. Something spills onto the floor.

 

The Doctor supposes that waking up fully might be in order, but decides against it because of the whole ‘throbbing headache’ thing.

 

“ _ You’ve _ certainly treated me differently now that I’m female.” 

 

“I’m not a misogynist, I hate everyone equally.” 

 

Missy laughs for at least thirty seconds and sniffs, clearly wiping her nose. “You made me cry, you idiot. What internet subforum did you spring from with that line?”

 

“...Shut up, lady-me.” Koschei, now sounding rather irritated, takes a sip of something. (Presumably, the mead.)

 

Missy sighs. “Honestly, it’s Poe’s Law in action. You’re hopeless. I can’t wait until you die and I have someone who’s actually on my level to talk to.”

 

“I’d like to see you try.” Koschei growls ( **_actually_ ** _ growls!!)  _ and shuffles about some more.

 

Thinking that now would be a good time to actually wake up, The Doctor attempts, but cannot move just yet. Awesome. 

The Doctor doesn’t want to wake to a murder scene. Not today. (Or any day, really.)

 

“Dearest, as much as I love this charming  tête-à-tête, I think there’s other things we could be doing.” Missy replies, clearly walking away. Her footsteps echo on the floor of the TARDIS.

 

Oh no. This doesn’t bode especially well. The Doctor on the edge of unconsciousness, two versions of the Master left to roam free… No, this doesn’t bode well at all.

 

“What, in here?, with...” Koschei sounds  _ scandalised.  _

 

The Doctor doesn’t know what these ‘other things’ are, and doesn’t want to think about it.

 

“That’s  _ bad.”  _ Koschei continues, with a husky laugh. 

 

There is a sudden, dramatic silence from the pair, aside from what sounds like a whole lot of shuffling around.

The Doctor decides that now is the time to wake up and shoots to her feet, nearly stumbling onto the console on the way.  Eyes now open, she sees Koschei and Missy backed up around the other side of the console, hands at each other’s throats.

“Every time I leave you two alone you  _ always  _ fight. Every time! Can you just kiss and make up and get over it, already?” Her voice falls flat when she notices the pair staring at her. “What? What now? Don’t tell me I’m blue or something this time around.”

 

Missy waves at a hand at her. “Dearest, you might want to look down.”

 

And she does.

 

“Oh, I’m ginger now!”

The long hair curling past her shoulders is red and wavy. She likes it. 

 

Missy huffs, and rolls her eyes, obviously fed up with her obliviousness. “Not the hair, Doctor.” 

 

She looks down again.

 

“Oh.”

 

This... changes things. 

(She thinks she would have preferred to have been blue.)


	2. wardrobe

  
  


The quick pep-talk The Doctor gives herself in the mirror about the notions of the human gender binary (and so forth) isn’t really needed, but it does give her the opportunity to examine herself better. She’s in a female human body now (or thereabouts, the notions of human gender and sex have always been sort of ridiculous to her - and will become somewhat ridiculous to them in the late 21st century), and it’s not the worst feeling ever.

 

She’s been in the same sort of body for at least a couple of millennia now, and honestly, this one is a change. She doesn’t  _ dislike  _ it, but it’s a feeling that she might need to get used to. She can’t remember being anything other than a consciousness stapled into vaguely similar men for a long time now - ever since the Academy - so this might need some work.

 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I like the new body.” Koschei preens, eying her from the doorway.

 

She suspects he might be a little bit drunk. Human alcohol tends not to affect Timelords, but he  _ has  _ been drinking for quite a few hours, if her internal clock is ticking right. 

 

Missy huffs and slaps him around the head. “Well of course  _ you  _ do. Honestly. We are going to go places and have to…  _ babysit  _ her _. _ ”

 

She glares at herself in the mirror. She doesn’t look  _ that  _ young, does she? Surely not any younger than her Eleventh self did. Her red hair is loose and long and she supposes that the freckles don’t help with the ‘young’ thing, but she doesn’t look  _ that _ … underdeveloped. Anything would look young compared to her last self!

 

Speaking  _ of  _ her last self, his outfit fits terribly on her. She’s swimming in his pants. This is not going to work. “I don’t look that young, do I?” She asks Missy, who is really the only helpful one at this present moment. “How old do I look, in human years? Roughly?”

 

“Mid-20s maybe?” Missy replies, with a practised glance.

 

“I’ve been dead, I wouldn’t know.” Koschei remarks.

 

“Yes, and you’re not aging so well yourself.” Missy adds, with a poke to his greying stubble. “When  _ are  _ you going to shave that off?”

 

“Oh, you can’t say you don’t  _ like  _ it.” He grins, and bares his teeth at her. 

 

“Yes, yes, whatever.” The Doctor interrupts, before they end up breaking the furniture.  _ Honestly,  _ a bit of civility wouldn’t go amiss. She spreads her arms. “What’s this like, better or worse than the last one?”

 

“Better,” says Koschei.

“Worse,” says Missy, and they immediately start squabbling again.

 

_ Figures. _

  
  


The clothes in the wardrobe room have resized themselves slightly to fit her shorter frame, and she’s thankful for it. Taking a little bit from her Eleventh form, and some parts from the Twelfth (as well as a certain jacket that a certain ex-Time Agent left onboard so long ago), she fashions something that resembles clothing. Whether or not her current companions will find it acceptable is another story.

 

Patting the TARDIS’ wall, she says, “Thanks, honey,” and feels the wall shiver in response.

 

She doesn’t think the TARDIS is too happy about having two iterations of the Master aboard at one time, but she’s putting up with it remarkably well so far. 

 

It could be worse. It could be much worse. She just needs to have a cup of tea and a lie down and everything will be fine.

 

(Gods, she hopes it will be fine.)

 

(She also hopes she expelled that bullet when she regenerated or else she’s going to have to dig it out and she’s not super fond of that idea.)

  
  


She rejoins the others in the console room, who are sitting about as far away from each other as it is possible to be. She suspects she might have interrupted another fight, from the way that their clothes are ruffled.

 

(A camera feed in the console room would be an idea… All she’d have to do is install it…)

 

“You look…” Missy trails off, with a quick glance up and down her body. It’s practised, and there’s nothing really in it, but it still makes her twitch a bit.

  
“Good? Fashionable?  _ Cool?”  _ She strikes a bit of a pose and smoothes out her lapels.

 

“Not terrible.” Missy finishes.

 

Oh.

 

Koschei gives her two thumbs up and deigns to say nothing more.

  
  


It’s a beginning at least. 


	3. trois

 

“You two were…  _ copulating…  _ in my console room?! I can’t believe it.”

 

The camera she had set up in the console room had worked wonders. Unfortunately.

 

Neither of them have the decency to look embarrassed. In fact, they both look like they’re on the verge of laughter.

 

“Seriously?” She feels much like her Eleventh self again, all awkward and flaily. She doesn’t quite know where to put her hands.

 

“Dearest, you can just call it sex, you know.” Missy explains, “The humans seem to like that term.”

 

“I’d prefer a  _ fuck _ , but…” Koschei begins gleefully but trails off with the look that she’s giving him. “...somehow I think you wouldn’t.”

 

“Seriously?” She says, again. “You’re the same person.”

 

“Throwing stones, are we? If your Tenth self didn’t at least consider it, I’d be very surprised.” Missy leans back against the wall, arms crossed. She purses her lips.

 

He  _ had  _ been rather  _ amorous  _ but she didn’t think she’d go this far. At least, she hadn’t thought of it  _ then. _

 

“No. Never.”

 

“Pity.” Koschei sighs. “You mightn’t have thought about it, but I did.”

 

She can feel her face reddening. Honestly, after over two thousand years, she has a body that can instantly betray her. It’s almost unfair. “Cut it out. Keep it to your… rooms. Or whatever. Not in my space.”

 

“Boring.” He replies. “I thought this new body would be more…  _ exciting.”  _

 

She’s plenty exciting. Not wanting to see her companions - because she supposes that is what they are now - do  _ things  _ in her console room isn’t unexciting. It’s self-preservation.

 

"Where's your sense of adventure? I thought you'd at least  _consider_ it." Koschei snarks.

 

She hates this body. Hates the way it betrays her, makes it obvious what she's feeling. "Get out."

 

“Come along then.” Missy says to her younger self. “I can see when we’re not wanted. Pity.”

 

The Doctor watches as Missy pulls Koschei from the console room. As he goes, he drags a hand along her back, warm through her leather jacket, and it pains her that she can’t help but arch into the touch. 

 

Whatever he says, whatever they all say, it’s obvious that there’s something between them. There always has been and there always will be. It’s the Doctor and the Master, through time and space.

 

She just can’t bring herself to  _ actualise  _ it, though. 


	4. Chapter 4

“You are the absolute  _ worst,  _ darling.” Missy crows, as she stumbles along beside her. “This new regeneration? Completely wicked. About time too.”

 

The Doctor preens at the words. “I do try.” 

 

They’d stumbled into a games tournament on a party planet - and apparently the adjudicators of said tournament weren’t especially fond of the Doctor cheating the system by using a little bit of Timelord wizardry. 

 

One thing had led to another, they’d both drunk too much of something that seemed to affect their Gallifreyan systems all too well, and now they are trying to make it back to the TARDIS with angry party-goers on their tail, stumbling all the way. Koschei, as far as she knows, is still sitting in the TARDIS, engrossed in a human erotic novel series about vikings and vampires.

 

“You know, I wasn’t quite sold on this regeneration when you first changed,” Missy begins, and then gives her a long considering look that leaves the Doctor rather hot under the collar, “But it has definitely grown on me.” 

 

“Something complimentary from you? The sky must be falling.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” Missy continues, trying very hard not to fall over, “That was a once in the lifetime compliment, don’t expect any more from me.” 

 

“You’re not so terrible, yourself.” The Doctor drawls. Her legs feel like jelly. Why do they feel like jelly? “Aside from the ‘wanting to kill all humans’ schtick.”

 

“I didn’t want to kill  _ all  _ humans, dearest.” Missy bends down, and manages to re-tie her shoelace while she’s still moving. It’s a feat of acrobatics that hardly anyone can best. “Only some of them. The irritating ones.”

 

“That’s very you.”

 

“Mhmmmm.” She looks back and the Doctor take the opportunity to do so as well. The crowd following them are very close. Too close for comfort. “Tell me, are you opposed to me doing something that might save both of our lives?”

 

“Depends what that ‘something’ is.”

 

“That’s good enough for me.” Missy takes hold of her arm and drags her around the corner of the street and into a nearby alcove. She snorts and leans in. “I learned this from  _ humans _ .”

 

“You learned what-” Her words are abruptly cut off by Missy pressing her against the wall and shoving her tongue into her mouth.

 

Considering the velocity of the thing, it appears she’s wanted it for  _ quite  _ a while. 

 

Maybe the Doctor’s spent too much time with humans, because she goes with it, doesn’t pull away, just melts into the kiss and lets Missy cover her as much as she can with her body.

 

Her lips are soft and pliant against hers. As much as she’s enjoying this - because why deny it - The Doctor can’t help but track the angry mob using her peripheral senses as they get even closer and… run straight past.  

 

Well. That’s far more preferable than burning at the stake. 

 

“Beautiful.” Missy lets her go and straightens out a lock of hair on her forehead. The gentle touch feels oddly  _ nice,  _ and really, at this point, she can hardly believe it’s come from someone who used to be an enemy. “Worked like a charm. Some people…” She shakes her head with some derision. 

 

The Doctor blinks up at her, eyes rather dilated. “Y-yeah. Uh.. yeah! Good thinking.” She sticks her head out of the alcove, spots no-one in sight and gestures. “We should go. Before they all come back.”

 

Missy grins. Her teeth glint sharp like a shark’s. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here and… learn some more ‘evasion techniques’?”

 

The Doctor glares at her. “Not now.” 

 

She can’t say she didn’t enjoy it, though. She’s just not going to say that out loud. Missy doesn’t need any more satisfaction. She’s grinning like the cat that ate the canary already. 

  
  


They do eventually get captured, but it’s not because of the ‘evasion techniques’. (It’s because the Doctor trips in a puddle which turns out to be an ambush and then they get rushed from all sides. It’s textbook, really.) 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Koschei.

The Doctor.

Running.

 

(Stumbling is, once again, probably a more accurate term.)

 

Why does this keep on happening?

It’s like the universe has it out for them. Knowing the universe, it probably does.

 

Koschei looks over at her and grins maniacally, baring his teeth as he does. To the untrained eye, it’d probably look rather scary, but she’s grown used to it. “Enjoying yourself, Doctor?” He calls, voice clipped in the whistling wind.

“Of course!” Because she is. There’s nothing like causing havoc and running away.

 

The shambling zombies behind them seem to disagree, if their loud groaning is any inclination.

 

“Good.” Koschei preens, and grabs her around the waist. Considering they’re both running, it’s a feat of athleticism that many couldn’t do. “Hold on.”

“What?” She shouts over the sound of the wind, unsure if she’s heard correctly.

“Hold on!” He pulls a device from his pocket that she’s never seen before and points it at the ground. Her stomach lurches… and suddenly they’re  _ flying. _

 

The wind rushes past, and the city glitters below them. It’s stunning. It’s  _ beautiful. _

 

It’s… all over too fast.

 

Because they’ve landed on one of the rooftops, zombies far below.

 

The Doctor runs to the edge and looks down. Some parts of the morass look up at her and growl, but they can’t do much more than reach up to her and whine pathetically.

 

This is a fixed point. They’d stumbled here by accident, but it still feels bad not to  _ do  _ something. Mere hours ago these zombies were people, occupants of the village, but an infection had ravaged them and turned them.

It’s almost hard to look at.

 

“You’re thinking too much.” Koschei says, from behind her. “You know you can’t do anything here.”

“Is it too self-aggrandising for me to want to try?”

“Yeah.” He comes and sits down at her feet, and dangles his legs off the roof. “I wouldn’t expect anything different from  _ you _ though.”

He says ‘you’ like it’s a weapon. “Just because I don’t want to destroy planets all the time doesn’t mean that I’m predictable.”

“Yeah it does. Believe it or not, I don’t actually want to destroy planets. It’s just more fun being the bad guy.”

“Gods, you’re a cliche.” She sighs, sits down next to him and dangles her own feet off the roof. 

“Are you saying that you’re not?” He grins widely at her, not unlike a shark. “‘The Doctor’. It’d be less predictable if you were the bad guy.” 

“You never know. I might become the bad guy one day.” She doubts it, but sometimes it’s interesting to speculate about. The threads of time pull her towards good decisions. She’s not going to go against them any time soon. 

 

He snorts. “No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.” 

 

And they’re  _ talking.  _ Almost like everything’s fine between them. What is  _ happening _ ? She’s not had such a sincere conversation with him for years. Millenia, even. It almost feels like they’re back at the Academy, with no hate or discontent clouding their lives. 

 

She wishes she could hold onto it.

 

The universe doesn’t seem to think so, because there’s a sudden explosion behind them and Koschei falls off the roof.

 

The next thirty seconds go by very quickly. (For a Timelord, that’s  _ something.) _

She manages to just grab Koschei’s hand and stop him tumbling into the clump of zombies below. He laughs, like he’s  _ planned  _ it, and scrabbles for a handhold on the guttering on the side of the building.

 

“Come on. Climb up.” She says, knowing full well that he can do it. Her back’s starting to ache at the strain of holding someone who is far larger than she. 

“What if I don’t?” He begins to wriggle his hand out of her grasp, grinning maniacally. 

“You and I both know that you don’t die here, idiot, and if you get turned into a zombie then I’ll have to go and find a cure to turn you back and that’s just  _ effort.  _ Come on.” She tries to keep her voice steady, but it wavers on a couple of words. Damn feelings. Damn them. 

He rolls his eyes, “Sentimentalist, “ but drags himself back onto the roof anyway. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a sentimentalist!” She protests. Her hearts are beating really fast, which feels like it should be an issue, but she can’t bring herself to care. “There’s nothing wrong with-”

 

But then he kisses her.

 

And honestly, what is  _ with  _ her companions and this kissing thing, it’s getting ridiculous and really should be -

 

But she can’t stop herself leaning into the kiss. This has been years in the making. Through countless regenerations and an incomprehensible amount of years, it’s finally happening.

(She supposes it has already happened, if they’re being technical about it.)

 

“Stop thinking.” He growls against her lips.

 

She can’t be blamed, she supposes, when she lets him bare her down onto the roof. 


	6. end

“What. is this.” She asks, hands on her hips in the middle of the control room. 

Gods, she feels so small opposite them. Damn this body. 

 

“What is… what?” Koschei asks, grinning in a way that suggests he already knows.

 

Missy just shifts so she’s leaning back against the console and preens flamboyantly. She’s been through this already.

Lucky her. At least one person knows what’s going on. 

 

“This whole  _ romantic conspiracy  _ thing! Twelve didn’t get this sort of treatment! Ten did, but then I kinda did encourage it, but still!” This flailiness isn’t helping. “Why is this  _ kissing  _ thing happening so often?”

 

Missy laughs, loudly and obnoxiously, for at least ten seconds and gestures at Koschei. “Because he’s in love with you.”

 

Koschei shifts uncomfortably from his perch on one of the railings, but he doesn’t deny it.

 

The sting doesn’t come. It feels familiar. It feels  _ right.  _ But there’s something missing. “You’re the same person.”

 

“And?” 

 

Human feelings. Damn. In a way, things could be so much easier on Gallifrey. “If he’s in love with you, then you must be too.”

 

Missy shrugs, “Marginal.”

 

“Lies.” Koschei climbs to his feet and points an accusing finger at her. “I am you. If you can’t say that you… care… for her, then you’re lying to yourself.”

 

“Hmph.” Missy replies. “Maybe I am.”

 

It’s probably the best she’s going to get. “I care for you too. I always have. You know that.”

 

“Good.” Koschei stretches like a cat. “Now that we’ve had this embarrassingly human conversation, can we fuck off somewhere?”

 

“Brilliant.” 

 

And they do.

  
  


No matter what, either Master or Mistress, mellowed villain or genocidal tyrant, evil plot or fiendish game, they’ve always been linked. Time itself has always dragged them together, and that is how they’ll stay. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on [twitter](http://twitter.com/skyuni123)  
> or [tumblr](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com)


End file.
